


with fresh light in his arms

by phichit-chu (howtobottlefame)



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: M/M, Sun and Moon gods, moon god otabek, sun god yuri
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-28
Updated: 2019-07-28
Packaged: 2020-07-23 10:57:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,842
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20007193
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/howtobottlefame/pseuds/phichit-chu
Summary: As dawn breaks and the Earth grows bold with a new day, the god of the moon and the god of the sun come together again, a dance carefully crafted and perfected after centuries of searching for each other.





	with fresh light in his arms

**Author's Note:**

> This was written as my submission for issue 1 of Shall We Read! The theme for the issue was 'light' so I couldn't /not/ go with sun and moon gods!

The moon relaxes its touch over the city, over the country and the sea that doesn't rest, his fingers feather light as they map the roads and the trees and the sleeping houses, a calm that's never complete. The first birds start to sing, waking before anything else does, and the moon god smiles. Constellations begin to dim, swallowed down by artificial light as humans' routines start to play out. He doesn't know how long it's been, when their dance started; before men, before the Earth itself perhaps, it matters not. Time holds no meaning here, as the sky begins to dye itself yellow. The god waits with open arms.

"Otabek." The voice itself is warm, and though he's never been bothered by the cold the contrast is a welcome relief. Animals wake up, joints popping as they stretch, and the hustle of the city begins. He's glad as always that the sky is clear for him, no clouds to block the view.   
  
It's been a few hours since dusk, since the last rays of sunlight left behind the horizon like the last touch of their fingertips, like the goodbye they share time and time again but never seems to loosen the knot in his throat, in his chest. Only a few hours, the same as every cycle, but the sight of him still steals the breath from his lungs.   
  
The silk around Yuri's body changes color like the clouds: orange, yellow, blue around the edges. The beauty of it can't hold a candle to his smile. His hair reflects the first rays of the morning sun, each strand like the golden thread that binds them together and Otabek's fingers ache to reach out, to discover all over again the way it feels, how soft it is against his skin, and the content hum Yuri would let out that took no time to become Otabek's favorite sound.  
  
The movement below continues, grows bolder as humans start their day, the moon god distantly hears the city come to life and here, with the sky tinting purple, they touch.   
  
It's like letting out a breath, the way Otabek's hands reach for him, instantly warmed against Yuri's skin, making him shiver. "I missed you," he says, unashamed, his feelings bared for the world to see. It's almost like muscle memory, the way his body knows how to hold him, the way his skin itches when the night fully takes over and they have to part ways, it's like a fire burning underneath, Yuri's heat ever present, and yet, somehow, it's still different, every time a new one, every touch feeling like the first, like he'll still chase him away if he's not careful enough even after all this time.  
  
He smells like grass, wet with dew, like ripe berries, blossoming flowers. Otabek can't blame sunflowers for turning their faces towards him. He too has spent his life chasing after him, waiting in silence, watching, learning, eager for the moment they'll finally meet, when they'll finally touch.   
  
Yuri's always been loved, a constant force in the hearts of humans, a beacon that shapes their routines and aids their work, respected as much as he's feared. In the beggining, sacrifices were made, fresh meat or sweet wine to keep him pleased. A sun god, Otabek's learned himself, is someone you want on your side.   
  
Otabek watched and longed for the power he held, not only on people's heartstrings but on the Earth herself, all her beauty because of him. The flowers and the grass and the singing birds all loving, all beautiful because of him. _Are you jealous?_ someone had asked him once, catching on to the way Otabek's gaze lingered, on how eagerly he waited for dawn to break. It was a fairly obvious question, when most of Otabek's life had been shaped around Yuri's, the places where they matched and the ones that didn't, their differences all the more pronounced. A complement, maybe, but he had always thought that Yuri shined so brightly he could very well stand on his own. That had been ages ago and still his answer had been as easy, as honest as it was now. _Never_.   
  
People loved him too, of course, the night just as needed, just as expected, a fresh respite from Yuri's heat. Still, the love for the moon had always been a quiet thing, more of a given. Gratitude for him was unwavering yet not as strong as their veneration of the sun. Otabek didn't blame them. His feelings for him had never been out of jealousy. He was content with their quiet love, and if he watched and longed for the sun's heat he told himself it was always out of admiration only.   
  
That had been back when humans still raised their faces to the sky and actively asked for their cooperation, when the gods pulled the strings of fate in their favor or against them, back when they were present in every man’s heart; even before, if Otabek tried hard to think about it, he couldn't remember a time where Yuri wasn't ever present in his life, where he wasn't the constant to which he measured his own life.   
  
Never jealous. Selfish, maybe, always longing for something he shouldn't, looking to better himself less for the sake of it and more to be able to call himself a match, a complement to Yuri's sun more than the aftertaste it left. And Yuri had been unaware, his job efficient and beautifully done without even knowing about the way Otabek struggled, the way he watched him. When you're so used to everyone looking up at you in awe, a single gaze means little. But if Otabek was anything, it was constant and unrelenting and backing down wasn't in his nature.   
  
So he stood there, waited and watched and thought of ways to get closer until finally, _finally_ Yuri watched him too. He knew it was never out of malice that Yuri didn't pay attention to him, so important was he, so beautiful his job, to care about a minor god like him, but when he finally looked back it still felt like the brightest of sunrises, blinding, like all things beautiful paled in comparison. Otabek had spent centuries watching over his shoulder and still he had never realized how green Yuri's eyes were up close, like fruit not yet ripe and the soft grass they laid on, like life itself, right there and staring straight at him.   
  
If he knew one thing for sure, though, it was that he'd do anything to keep Yuri from looking away again.  
  
He wasn't a gentle thing, nothing that would break if handled roughly. Otabek had learned all his rough edges, all his fury, the way he burned and lashed and blinded if you're not careful, how fierce his anger was, white hot and harsher than all his gentle warmth. Yuri's fire was all the more reason why he loved him. For all his fury, even stronger was Otabek's love for all the soft sides of him, how caring he could be, how careful with the way he'd stretch his hands over the Earth just enough to make animals content and the way he took to flowers, how he'd smile at him and Otabek’s chest filled with a kind of warmth he hadn’t felt in all the centuries he had lived as a god.

It was that easy, being with him, a distant throw to the way he had imagined it, to the coldness he had watched and admired for so long. It was one of those things you don’t notice, when exactly Otabek’s life was filled with color. Yuri painted the black of night with the hues of dawn: pink, orange, gold. With Yuri came a brightness to his life that it had lacked before, a renewed sense of purpose, seeking to better himself not only where his work was concerned but as a whole, warming the places in himself he didn’t know light could reach.

Yuri’s warmth is everywhere, ever present, and here, with Yuri in his arms, Otabek finds his heaven. As if the passing of night and day was all that eventful they catch up, Yuri talking non stop about the scarce hours they’ve been apart, routines barely changing but he listens to it eagerly, without a trace of boredom as if Yuri’s words were the most exciting thing he’s heard, and they might as well be. He tells him about the changing leaves, about the seasonal fruit and the animals readying themselves for the changing season, about this and that and nothing at all and Otabek drinks it all in. With him, with Yuri’s warmth right against his chest, with their fingers thread together he finds the beauty in things he hadn’t cared to look at before. With Yuri, even the dull night acquires a beautiful glow, the stars shining all the brighter and the crickets sounding even sweeter. With Yuri, hours pass like minutes before the moon fully sets below the horizon and they have to part ways again. Without him, minutes like hours.

They make the most of their time, blending together like the light that paints the sky in entirely new colors. They talk and they laugh and when they kiss it’s as if they're making up for lost time, for centuries that feel wasted when the slide of their lips is so sweet. Yuri’s eyes shine all the brighter when he smiles and Otabek gets lost in them. He thinks of centuries past, of human’s veneration of him and they gifts they made him, the gold and silk that covers his body, and he understands. When Yuri smiles at him, that sweet smile of his, Otabek wants to lower each star for him, each constellation in a silver chain to hang around his neck. When Yuri smiles, the heavens stretch impossibly wider to fit all that’s threatening to burst from his chest.

It’s been centuries since humans stopped looking up at them so much, since their gifts grew scarce, the hustle of the city taking up too much of their time, the moon and the sun’s presence falling behind to the back of their minds. As dawn breaks and the sky above changes, the Earth welcoming the new day, the gods share a final kiss, stretched as long as they can but feeling impossibly short. Their hands touch, linger, and Otabek gets a final look at him to commit to memory. In this day and age almost no one asks the gods for miracles, no one prays, and yet everyone that cares to stop notices the beauty of the sky, the way it changes color and never stays still.

When you've lived as long a life as a god, a few centuries mean little. Otabek would've waited even longer for him, as long as it took for Yuri to finally look back. To the end of the world, if it was necessary. Still, he was forever glad he didn't have to.

**Author's Note:**

> You should totally check out the zine's ao3 collection cause it's full of talented writers that contributed over the course of 3 issues and a pilot! 
> 
> I hope you liked it! Thanks for reading and leaving kudos/comments! 
> 
> You can find my twitter [here](https://www.twitter.com/kirishimqs)!


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